


John Boyd's Involuntary Killboner or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love to Wrassle

by thesentimentalist



Series: Ravenous Works [2]
Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Boyd: Disaster Sub, Cannibalism, Consensual Surprise Attacks, Farce, Humor, Ives: Chaotic Switch, M/M, Wrassling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesentimentalist/pseuds/thesentimentalist
Summary: “I tell you what. What if I attacked you, at random, once a day. After a while, you’d get used to it.”It was a terrible idea.“As good an idea as any,” said Boyd.
Relationships: John Boyd/Ives
Series: Ravenous Works [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582867
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	John Boyd's Involuntary Killboner or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love to Wrassle

“You don’t like gore much, do you?” said Ives, wiping the blood from his hands on a rag.  
Boyd was on his hands and knees in the corner of the barn, being violently sick.  
“Don’t answer that,” said Ives, “How did you ever wind up in the army? Anyway, you’re going to need to get used to violence.”  
Ives crossed the barn and knelt down next to Boyd, pushing his hair away from his face and wiping his mouth.  
“I know,” said Boyd, “I’ve never been good with . . .”  
He gestured to the half-butchered man on the table.  
“You don’t say.” Ives said, petting him affectionately, “I tell you what. What if I attacked you, at random, once a day. After a while, you’d get used to it.”  
It was a terrible idea.  
“As good an idea as any,” said Boyd.  
. . .  
Boyd was down by the river beating his socks against the rocks, when Ives dropped out of a box elder and attacked him.  
He went face first into the water, and for a few moments he was frozen with panic, but then he grabbed Ives’ shins and rolled them over.  
They emerged from the river–Boyd spluttering, Ives laughing–and collapsed onto the grass.  
“It wasn’t that funny.” said Boyd.  
Ives laughed even harder.  
“Your face!” he wheezed, rolling onto his side, and slapping Boyd on the chest. “You looked so surprised!”  
He buried his face in Boyd’s chest and laughed and laughed until his laughter subsided, and he lay there, trailing his fingers over Boyd’s chest and finding his way in between the buttons.  
They fucked in the dewy grass and Boyd got a sunburn on the entire back side of his body. Ives generously rubbed salves on him for the next couple of days.  
. . .  
It was hard to run a base, however small, between the two of them, but they managed. The super strength helped.  
Boyd was laying down fresh straw in the stable stalls when Ives snuck up behind him and tackled him to the ground. They ended up with Ives sitting on Boyd’s stomach.  
They sat there, panting. Boyd groaned and put his arms around Ives waist. “Do you like that?” Ives purred, “having me on top of you?”  
Boyd just whined and pushed up against him.  
Ives pushed his hair out of his face and leaned down to kiss him, pushing his shoulders down and shifting his weight to pin Boyd more firmly to the ground.  
Boyd squirmed against him, but not hard enough to dislodge him–Ives wasn’t the only one who liked playing games.  
Ives smirked.  
“Oh it’s like that is it?”  
Boyd gave him a look.  
Ives took Boyd’s hands and pinned his wrists above his head. Boyd whimpered. Actually whimpered.  
“That’s what I thought.” Said Ives, sliding a hand down into Boyd’s pants.  
. . .  
When Ives leapt out at Boyd from under the kitchen table, he was ready. He wrestled him to the ground, twisted his arm behind his back, and sat on him.  
“Are you done?” Boyd said as Ives wriggled under him.  
“You pinned me!” Ives said, squirming.  
“Sure did.” said Boyd, shifting to put more weight on Ives. unyielding.  
“Boyd,” said Ives, “that’s . . . incredibly arousing.”  
“Jesus Christ.” said Boyd, “You’re insane.”  
It didn’t stop him from fucking Ives on the kitchen floor.  
. . .  
It was still probably a bad idea, but Boyd stopped being so afraid. Some years later they were in Kansas, robbing a stage coach.  
A bank manager tried to escape while Ives was going through the cargo, and Boyd chased him. They got into the trees by the side of the road and Boyd got the man cornered. He whipped around and threw a punch at Boyd, who dodged easily, swept his legs out from under him, and tackled him to the ground.  
“Wait,” said the bank manager, as Boyd got him in a choke hold, “are you hard?”  
He was. He hadn’t noticed in the excitement of the moment, but he had an inexplicable erection.  
“Oh my god,” said Boyd, embarrassed, “I swear, this never happens to me,” and snapped his neck.  
. . .  
Later, while they were sitting around the fire, Ives said  
“Are you ok Boyd, you seem to have taken a funny turn there.”  
Boyd opened his mouth. Then closed it. Sighed heavily and opened his mouth again without speaking for a few seconds. Finally, he blurted out:  
“I was aroused when I killed that banker,” he said.  
“Oh,” Ives said casually, “Perfectly natural I’m sure. The heat of battle, et cetera.”  
Boyd thought that this had never happened to him before. He also thought Ives was a piss poor judge of what was and wasn’t natural. In any case, worrying about whether or not becoming aroused by violence was natural seemed like a moot point at this juncture.  
That didn’t stop it from eating at him though. Especially when he persisted in being perfectly natural every time he got into a fist fight.  
It wasn’t until some 50 years later that he figured it out. He was sitting around, reading the newspaper when he came across an article about a young fellow named Pavlov and his experiments with dogs.  
He burst into Ives’ room.  
“You cursed my dick!” he spluttered furiously.  
“What?” said Ives.  
Boyd crossed the room and put the paper in Ives hands, tapping the article.  
“You. Cursed. My. Dick.”  
Ives read the article. When he was finished, he set the paper down in his lap and howled with laughter until tears of mirth streamed down his face. Boyd sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to be done.  
“It’s not that funny.” Boyd said.  
“I’m not so sure about that.” said Ives, rolling over to face Boyd.  
“Say, wanna wrestle?”


End file.
